


drink your spite

by havisham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Whipping Boy, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Meet the Family, Redemption, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16738399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Canon-divergence AU. Trevor is Alucard’s whipping boy but no one learns the lessons they’re supposed to.





	drink your spite

Adrian’s mother had been against the idea of him getting a whipping boy from the start. It was a cruel practice, she said, and taught noble youth nothing of mercy or humility, or whatever it was supposed to do. Adrian’s father agreed with her, largely. But it was, he said, tradition. And tradition was nothing to be scoffed at. “My darling,” he said, his clawed hand stroking Lisa’s golden hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, a small smile sealing across her face. He told her, “I would not be here if not for tradition.” 

Adrian, who was spying on his parents’ conversation, wondered what they were in fact talking about. Their words seemed to bubble up and have different meanings running under the surface. Adrian knew himself to be very intelligent. But he thought, perhaps, he lacked experience to judge. 

But traditions were fearful stuff, Adrian knew already. His father had died and lived again, because his fearful servants had dabbled old vampire’s blood on his tongue as he lay dying, as tradition dictated. Then, on the third day, as predicted, he rose from the dead. 

Then Adrian made a mistake -- he was not as quiet getting up from his hiding spot as he could’ve been. As quick as thought, his father darted over to where he was hid and pulled him out. “What are you doing here, my boy?” 

“I want one, father,” Adrian told him. It would pointless to pretend he hadn’t been listening. He was lifted up so high that it seemed as though he was floating. He saw his mother frown a little. 

“Can you accept the responsibility of having another person suffer for your mistakes, Adrian? Perhaps what you really need is a friend.”

“Perhaps he could have both,” said his father setting him down again. 

*

A few weeks later, a feral boy, with shaggy brown hair that covered his pale, haunted eyes, had been installed in the corner of Adrian’s room. He refused to tell any of them his name, but Adrian had heard it whispered among the servants. It wasn’t a Wallachian name, nor was it derived from the ancients, as his own was. The boy was human and seemed a few years older than Adrian himself, but Adrian knew that he would soon outstrip the boy. 

The boy tried to kill him on the first day. It was a crude attempt and Adrian batted it away like it was an annoying bit of thread. “You’ll have to try harder than to stab me with a kitchen knife if you want me to die,” he informed the boy. 

The boy glared at him.

“ _Monster_ ,” he hissed. 

“Dinner,” Adrian hissed back. He knew he looked frightening, because the boy pulled back, the back of his head smacking sharply against the chamber wall. 

“Why don’t you kill me,” the boy said, after a long silence. “Didn’t your parents tell you that it was rude to play with your dinner?” 

Adrian was silent. He knew his mother would’ve been ashamed of his behavior. After much hesitation, he began, “It’s not that we _want_ to eat you. If we did, you’d be dead by now. You’re to be mine, for now.” 

The boy made a face. “I’d rather be eaten.” 

“You don’t have a choice in the matter!” Adrian shoved a piece of bread at the boy. It was the kind of bread his mother favored -- delicate crumbed and tender, sweet to taste. The boy sniffed at it suspiciously before he shrugged and tore into it. Adrian had never seen someone so hungry in his life. 

“What’s your name?” he asked the boy, once the boy had eaten the bread, and the cheese and even some of the pickles that Adrian had ordered for him. 

After considering it, the boy said, “Trevor.” 

“That’s not a _real_ name,” was Adrian’s instant reply. 

“Fuck you,” said Trevor. “It’s as real as -- what’s your name?” 

“Adrian Tepes. I’m your master.” 

“Bullshit,” said Trevor. “I have no master, I'm a --” Here he hesitated and stuttered a little. “Free. I'm a free man.” 

“No longer,” Adrian replied, wondering why Trevor couldn't see the predicament he was in. If he persisted, he would be punished for his own sake, not Adrian’s. “When my father’s servants picked you up, you relinquished all rights to your person. You have no money, no land and no name. We are doing you a kindness, bringing you here. You should be grateful.” 

From Trevor’s expression, however, Adrian knew that gratitude was the farthest thing from the boy’s mind.

*

Trevor tried to kill him twice more. Each time, Adrian was ready for it, and defeated him easily enough. Trevor may be bigger than him -- for now -- but that didn’t mean anything. Adrian was still far stronger and faster. 

But the last time he tried, Lisa had been in the room -- of all of them, only she tried to draw Trevor out of his sullen shell. He shoved her away, hard enough that her arm came away bruised. Then Trevor tried to stab Adrian with a stolen butter knife, but he knocked it out of his hand. 

Lisa warned them both -- “Please, you two, none of that --” 

But then a servant had come in to tell her that a messenger had come -- a great lady of Gresit had gone into labor and asked no one but Doctor Lisa Tepes to attend her. With a flurry of capes and gloves, she was gone. The castle quaked around them, and soon they were just outside Gresit. Adrian could see the distant spires of the church from his window. 

He looked out and ignored Trevor’s loud breathing and sobbing near him. What had just happened had enraged Adrian far more than Trevor’s other pathetic attempts to end his life. Mother hadn't even _wanted_ Trevor to be Adrian’s pet. She thought he was human and thus, worth something. How dare Trevor try to hurt her! 

Adrian thought of punishing Trevor himself, but thought better of it. Instead, he left Trevor where he was and marched up his father’s throne. 

“Father,” Adrian said, kneeling down, “Please punish me. I was almost unable to protect Mother from that beastly human boy.” 

Dracula's silence was terrible to hear and seemed to seep into all the spaces in the room, as enormous as it was. But finally, he nodded. “Your judgment is sound, Adrian, and I will punish you as you have asked. Bring the whipping boy to me.” The last part he addressed to his wraiths, who disappeared without a murmur. 

Adrian thought he owed it to his parents -- and even to Trevor -- to see the boy whipped. 

After all, wasn’t that the whole point of having a whipping boy? 

So he sat composedly by his father’s side while Trevor was whipped. He could see that, at first, Trevor tried keep silent as the whip -- a slim, leather thing meant to teach a lesson rather than to raise scars -- lashed on to his back. But after the tenth time, the eleven, he cried out. 

Dracula looked to Adrian, whose eyes had never left the sight of Trevor’s straining back. “Does this please you, my boy?”

Trevor lifted his head and looked at him. In his agony, he hid nothing from Adrian now. Adrian knew that he was capable of great cruelty -- as all children were -- but now he knew that he was capable of feeling shame. He knew suddenly that he had not wanted Trevor punished for his mother’s sake at all. 

He felt suddenly dirty and small. But his father was still waiting for an answer. “Yes, Father. I am pleased. They can stop now.” 

Dracula gave the sign and they took Trevor away after that. 

*

When Lisa returned from her work and learned what had happened, she told her husband and son in no certain terms that she would not accept the practice of a whipping boy no longer. “You cannot do this -- least of all for my sake. I will not allow it.” 

Dracula acquiesced to it, though he said, “Then the boy would have to be disposed of. He has no living family.” 

“I will not let you murder him,” Lisa said. “Adrian, will you --?”

But Adrian had already gone. 

*

He was already attuned to Trevor’s scent and could find it easily enough. Even being beaten so badly hadn’t taken away the boy’s determination. He was still trying to escape the castle. But this time, Adrian knew he would succeed -- because he would help him.

“Piss off or I’ll kill you,” Trevor said. 

“You haven’t succeed how many times now?” Adrian said, eyebrows raised. 

“I wasn’t trying that hard before. But now I will…” 

Adrian lifted up a pack to show him. “Stop posturing for a moment and listen. This is a week’s worth of rations, some weapons, and a cloak with my scent in it. If they try to track you down, it should muddle things enough for you to get away. Now, get out.” 

Trevor hesitated for a moment before he snatched the pack away from Adrian’s hand. “Why are you helping me?” he asked suspiciously. “Is this another trick of yours?” 

“I’ve never done any tricks with you,”Adrian replied. “Now, are you going?” 

“Fine, fine.” Trevor looked at him and it seemed that he was seeing Alucard for the first time. He smiled for a moment, a gesture that transformed his face for a moment. “Before I go, I’ll tell you something, Adrian Tepes.” 

“What’s that?” 

“My name is Trevor Belmont, and I promist to stake you one day.” 

Of course, Adrian knew about the Belmonts -- what vampire did not? But all the Belmonts were dead, killed by human hands, not vampiric ones, and Adrian had no reason to fear them. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Adrian replied, folding his arms across his chest. 

He didn’t believe Trevor, of course. Of course he didn’t. 

*

Many years later, Alucard slithered out of his coffin and confronted those who had awakened him -- a bright-eyed Speaker and stinking hunter with a scar over his eye. Alucard frowned at Trevor. 

The scar was new, but then again, so was his. 

They had agreed, without discussing it, that any talk of their shared past would only confuse matters. Alucard was perfectly aware that Trevor had no reason to trust him, even as he knew that his own determination to stop his father could not be moved.

So they stumbled on to the unknown -- fighting together and distrusting each other. There was nothing else for it, for now. 

*

“I’ll say it right now, _vampire_ , regardless of what you may have done years ago, I have no reason to like you or trust you now,” Trevor said, as soon as they were alone, with Sypha looking for herbs for a poultice for her singed arm. They stood too close for comfort, but it was better than to be overheard. 

“I don’t expect you to,” Alucard replied. “Believe me or not, but after you - left, I was forced to reexamine some of my most basic assumptions, and with my mother’s help, I saw clearly the wrongs that I had done to you.” 

“Words are cheap.” 

“They may be, but now my mother is dead and my father wants to end the world. I must stop him, or everything she has tried to teach me was for nothing.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Trevor said bluntly. It was a lie. Alucard could see that Trevor, while noticeably more weathered and beaten up over the years, had still hadn’t got a firm grip on his emotions. It was just as well. 

“Well, you must care about the world not ending, even if it is to please Sypha.” 

Trevor flashed him a careless smile, hard-edged and not reflected in his eyes. “Speakers are an idealistic lot. She might think you’re the messiah they’ve been waiting for, but I know the toothy brat you’ve always been.” 

“Calm down, Belmont, you didn’t know me that well.” 

“Let me go,” Trevor said and it was then Alucard noticed that he’d been gripping Trevor’s arm quite tightly. He let go, without apologizing. 

When Sypha returned, she sniffed the air and looked at the both of them with narrowed eyes. “It stinks like a pissing contest here. What have you two been doing?” 

“Sypha!” Trevor said, pretending to be shocked. “The things you say.” 

“Vampires don’t piss,” Alucard replied. 

Trevor narrowed his eyes. “So you can only do half a dribble, if I understand you right.”

“You don’t,” Alucard replied. 

“I didn’t mean for you to start again,” said Sypha, but it was entirely too late. 

*

A night creature the size a cart slammed into Alucard and sent him flying for a moment before he recovered, swinging at the creature’s slobbering mouth, sword at the ready. But the creature hadn’t been alone -- when were they ever? And a winged abomination swooped in and clawed at Alucard’s head. Between his sword, stuck in wildly bucking creature’s back, and his torso being lifted up to the sky by a screaming horror, Alucard seemed to have only two choices -- hold on or let go. 

But then -- Trevor’s whip wrapped around the winged night creature’s neck and yanked it towards the ground. It relinquished its hold on Alucard and Alucard could finish cutting off the other one’s head with a hot, stinking spray of blood. 

After it was over, he gave Trevor a weary nod. Trevor acknowledged it when a disdainful grunt. “Your hair’s a mess.” 

“Is it?” Alucard said vaguely. It did feel quite tacky and stiff. “Thanks for noticing.” 

“It’s not --” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not like I care about what happens to your hair. You can go bald for all I care.” 

“I understand. We can talk about something else, if you’d like.” 

Trevor muttered something that sounded very much like _half-dead, supercilious bastard_ , but Alucard was fine with pretending not to have heard. 

*

“Here.” Alucard looked up, blinking at the sudden lantern light shining down on him. He’d been reading in the dark in the quietest part of the Belmont hold he could find -- and the farthest away from the macabre collection of vampire skulls, the image of which he couldn’t seem to escape. The smallest ones bothered him the most. Had they been half-vampires, like him? Or children who had been turned? Either way, they were disturbing. He didn’t know how Sypha and Trevor could look at them without any kind of reaction at all, but -- 

Trevor waved a bottle of spirits in front of his face. “Sypha sent me.” 

“Really.” 

“Do you doubt it?” 

“Don’t you have our defenses to shore up?” 

“My mother used to say that reading in the dark would ruin your eyes.” 

“My mother would say the same, but my eyesight has always been perfect.” 

Trevor sat down next to him with a groan. There was a certain smell that seemed to cling to Trevor that Alucard, with his sharpened senses couldn’t hope to miss. It wasn’t unpleasant, as far as that went -- although it was true the hunter smelled more of blood, terror and sweat than otherwise. But there was something else, behind all of that that made Alucard -- hungry. 

It was the smell of Trevor’s blood. 

Alucard recoiled at the shape of his thoughts. As simple and as stupid as Trevor could be, Alucard could not allow himself to think of Trevor as a meal, or how sweet and satisfying it would be to drink him dry. He would have to watch himself carefully, neither Trevor nor Sypha could be allowed to see how much their living bodies affected him. 

Especially not -- Trevor. 

“You’re shaking,” Trevor said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He took a sip from his bottle and winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol. Alucard could almost taste it on his breath. “You’re thinking of how much you want to drink from me, aren’t you? Fancy words aside, you’re still a vampire.” 

“Half,” Alucard bit out. “But I won’t drink from you. Or Sypha.” 

“If you so much as try, I’ve got a nice, hard stake ready for you.” 

“Lovely. It almost seems like you’re offering something else.” 

“Oh?” Trevor laughed. “Would the great Alucard accept my offer of a nice, hard cock in his time of need?” 

“If I knew you were seriously offering, rather than juvenile penile humor I’ve come to expect from you, then, perhaps.” 

“Most vampires, just so that you’re aware, are much less annoying than you are.” 

“Oh?” They were almost nose to nose at this point. If Alucard dropped his gaze downward, he would see the flutter of Trevor’s pulse against his neck. “And what do they usually say?” 

“Let me suck your blood, young man, you don’t need so much of it --” Trevor tried to put on an accent, which was as offensive as it was impossible to place. 

“Do you need so much of it?” Alucard said, knowing he sounded -- vague. A little lost. He was so hungry. 

“Yes,” Trevor said, “I need every drop of it.” 

“Then you can fuck off.” 

Trevor glared at him and leaned over and kissed Alucard, like a bite. Alucard groaned into Trevor’s mouth, his fangs shot out and nicked the soft parts of Trevor’s mouth. The kiss, now tinged with blood, lingered longer than it perhaps should have. When Alucard pulled away, he stared at Trevor. 

There was a definite flush across Trevor’s face. He sighed, loudly, and muttered, “Fine. You can have a -- sip.” 

Alucard raised his brow. “Are you sure?” 

“Don't question me, vampire. We can't have you faint from hunger when you're fighting your father’s night horde.” 

“That's very -- generous of you. Suspiciously generous. Are you planning to lop off my head when I’m distracted?” 

Trevor snorted loudly. “When I kill you, Alucard, you’ll see it coming.” 

Alucard stared at him. “That’s not very smart but it is very you.” 

“Bastard. Do you want to drink or not?” 

“I do.” Alucard closed his eyes for a moment, to center himself. When he opened it again, Trevor was still close enough that they could kiss again, if Alucard wanted to. He carefully put a few more inches of space between himself and Trevor. He didn’t want any kind of -- wildness he might have felt to bleed through. “You wouldn’t want me to drink from your neck, I presume.” 

“Nowhere others can see.” 

“Since you’re covered from neck to toe, that gives me plenty of choices.” 

“Not at my wrists either. I can’t compromise my fighting for you.” 

“I have no problems with that. Your thighs, then.”

“... My thighs? Pervert.” 

“I’m not biting your cock, Belmont,” Alucard said, trying to sound bored. 

“I would break off your fangs if you dared. Look at my face, Alucard, do you think I’m in jest?” 

If Alucard looked at his face, he was sure his blatant lust would show. So instead he ducked down, letting his hair fall over his face. “Hm? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. When are you going to take off your pants?” 

Trevor lifted himself with a huff and a cloud of dust. He pulled down his breaches and thrust himself into Alucard’s face. “Well, don’t just stare.” 

Alucard had enough of this unbearable teasing. He flicked out his tongue and licked a line down Trevor’s cock -- earning him a yelp of surprise from Trevor -- and then bit into the salt-tinged skin of Trevor’s upper thigh. 

It was the first fresh blood he’d had since -- before his mother died. He couldn’t help it. He went a little mad. As he sank into a crimson-colored bliss, he heard Trevor say something sharp as a warning. If only he could understand what the hunter was saying. 

Pain, searingly hot, cut through his haze. Alucard screamed when he found the Morningstar whip wrapped tightly around his neck. When he tried to wrench it off, his hands burned. He glared up at Trevor, pale-faced and grim. 

“You took too much.” 

Alucard opened his mouth and the whip tightened around him. “Sorry.” 

Eventually, Trevor’s grip slackened and Alucard was free. He rose quickly, humiliation burning through his veins like acid. He knew he’d done wrong, had lost control when he had promised he wouldn’t -- he didn’t want to face Trevor just now. 

Which was why, of course, Trevor said, sharply, “Look at me, Alucard.” 

Wearily, Alucard said, “What is it, Belmont? Should I let you whip me to make up for this?” 

Trevor’s mouth quirked up for a moment before he said, “Perhaps another time.” 

*

“Why did you choose the whip as your weapon anyway?” They had watched Dracula’s corpse burn together and then, rather awkwardly, moved away from the destroyed remains of Alucard’s childhood room, to less emotionally charged hallway outside it. Alucard asked the question to avoid thinking about the pile of ashes nearby that had once been his father. 

“Belmonts always use whips,” Trevor said as he bandaged up Sypha’s wounds. The young Speaker was almost falling asleep in his arms -- the feats of magic she’d done was incredible, but took a great deal from her. Trevor too, seemed ready to drop from exhaustion. 

But Dracula’s castle was no place to rest. Alucard decided to step in there, and guided his friends to the place that he assumed would be the safest place for them -- his mother’s rooms. As he expected, nothing had changed there. There was too much there for Alucard to feel comfortable, but at least he could install Sypha and Trevor somewhere they would be -- relatively -- safe. 

“Trying to sneak away, Alucard?” said a testy voice from the bed. Alucard, who was about to leave, hesitated for a moment before he nodded. 

“Coming with me, Belmont?” 

“Why not? A pleasant walk down memory lane, isn’t it?” 

There was nothing Alucard could say to that. It was as if he had double vision as he looked around him -- he could see the shadow of the vivid past more clearly now than the drab present. The only way the present held anything for him at all was because Trevor was beside him, looking over the devastation. 

“It is -- for me,” Alucard admitted, as they rounded the corner where, once, he’d run past too quickly and tripped over himself and chipped a tooth. He’d made a fool of himself then, though his mother had been kind enough not to laugh at his tears. “It’s strange that our childhood homes are now essentially the same place.” 

“I wasn’t here long,” Trevor said. “I was only six when my family died, and the only reason I didn’t die with them was because I was visiting a friend -- they kept me as long as they could, but it was dangerous for them too.” 

“It is hideous, our past,” Alucard said, a touch morosely. 

“Alucard you bastard, I’m not here to listen to you mope.” 

“Why are you here, then?”

Trevor gave him an impatient glare. “What have you got under there, Alucard? All that hair and nothing else to show for it? Not a single thought?”

“The idea that you should criticize me for being thoughtless beggars belief. Anyway, this is the second time you’ve mentioned my hair. Why are you obsessed with it?” 

Trevor reached out and looped a lock of Alucard’s hair around his ring finger. “It’s not fair to say I’m obsessed -- I’m not _obsessed_.” 

Alucard found himself back against a wall. He checked to see if this was a false wall that would lead to a long fall downwards and perhaps the dungeons (if they were lucky) but no -- it was an ordinary wall. Perhaps he looked expectant, because Trevor kissed him. This time, it was a soft kiss, almost tentative one. Trevor pulled away immediately and said in a voice full of false bravado, “I suppose you’re still thirsty. So, want a sip?” 

“No,” Alucard said. “I won’t be drinking tonight.” 

“Won’t you? Your fangs are out.” Alucard passed a hand over his mouth and willed his fangs to retract. “That happens when I’m aroused. Pay it no mind.” 

“Oh?” Trevor said. “Are you aroused by me, Alucard?” 

“I’m surrounded by the wreck of my childhood, Belmont. It would be a hideous display indeed if I was aroused here, a mockery of my suffering. So pull down your breeches and let’s see what we’re working with.” 

“You’re a confusing man, Alucard, but I’ll go along with it -- just once,” Trevor said. He pushed down his breeches to his hip and pulled out his cock. Alucard did the same, and there was certainly a good, long moment where they compared the two. Their cocks were -- distressingly -- quite similar. There was nothing much to distinguish them. 

“Cock-measuring? I didn’t think that would be a _classy_ thing for a vampire prince to do, but I’m not royalty.” 

“I don’t know, Belmont, but it feels like we’ve been measuring each other up since we first met,” Alucard muttered, rubbing his cock against Trevor’s. Trevor stiffened against him, but instead of pulling away, he grabbed Alucard’s cock and frotted against him as well. They stayed like this for several, breathless moments -- pausing here and there to exchange a hurried kiss or two. But mostly it was that -- a fraught connection, flesh against flesh, skin against skin. 

Trevor hissed, “I thought your cock would be cold but it’s -- tepid. Tepid Tepes, they should call you.” 

“.. Do you _want_ me to kill you?” 

“It wouldn’t be honorable to kill a man with his breeches down, Alucard.” 

“I’d pull them up for you after the fact.” 

“Ha,” Trevor said, “all right, Alucard. Now, pull down _your_ breaches. To your knees, if you please.” He looked smugly pleased with his rhyme, which Alucard decided not to dignify with a reaction. Instead, he did what he was asked to do and stood waiting for Trevor to come to the point. 

“Have you done this before? Er, between the thighs? If you mention the wisdom of the ancients, I _will_ never speak to you again.”

“Not much of a threat there,” Alucard said as Trevor slid his cock in between his thighs. He could ignore Trevor’s groan of pleasure and muttered comments of the smoothness of Alucard’s thighs -- perhaps he should take offense? It wasn’t his fault that he was -- it was hereditary, all right?

Still, he liked it, the push and pull of their bodies, their breathing falling almost into sync. 

“Alucard -- Adrian,” Trevor said, and something about his voice, its softness made Alucard startle a little. Trevor was going to say something, he was going to say that he and Sypha were leaving tomorrow, that this was the end. They would never see each other again, until -- until it came time for Trevor came to stake him. 

Alucard now believed in fate. 

So he kissed Trevor instead. Only partially to shut him up, and only partly to delay the inevitable for another moment or two. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Sath, Jag, and Nisie for betaing and advice! Tepid Tepes as all thanks to y'all. 
> 
> [Please listen to this excellent song from Shearwater, called "Whipping Boy.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kc4zNyMwWj0) What a great band, man. 
> 
> So this basically came about because I was thinking about Trevor's signature weapon (the whip) and wondered at the actually not-improbable chance that he'd become a whipping boy for some noble family. (In this AU, he's younger when the Belmonts get burned out of house & home.) From there, it was but a hop, skip & jump to ... this.


End file.
